


What Waits After

by sk1m



Series: Watching the Snow Fall [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk1m/pseuds/sk1m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brotherhood had filled up the lack in his heart, but in the long late nights while high in the trees and waiting, Connor sees a glimpse of his future in Achilles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Waits After

Connor wonders when Achilles calls for him, if he's the one Achilles is looking for, or if the older man is shouting after an old memory. Connor imagines a younger boy and a wife, roaming through the house that remains unchanged. While Achilles claims the accounts weren't what they used to be with the decline in Assassin resources, Connor knows it isn't just that. He can see it in the way chairs are always placed back in specific places, vases turned just a little bit, and rugs tugged towards a certain side of the room.  
Layers of dust cover the bookshelves and the candles, but Achilles Davenport looks at the place as if his family was still there yesterday.

It is a certain balance that must not be disturbed.

Connor is not sure if that is a healthy way of living, but he also does not know if there is another way for Achilles to live. When Ziio had passed away, he recalled waking up with hands reaching for his mother, but finding nothing. The brotherhood had filled up the lack in his heart, but in the long late nights while high in the trees and waiting, Connor sees a glimpse of his future in Achilles. He does not want it.

"Achilles?"  
It is a particularly cold day. The windows are frosted, and Connor's breath leaves behind white wisps before dissipating. He hears a muffled voice reply back.  
"I am upstairs, Connor." 

Connor climbs the stairs slowly to avoid tipping the tray on the way. He finds Achilles in his favorite armchair facing a window overlooking the vast land outside. Achilles is wrapped in a faded quilt with his cane set aside. There is a yellowing book in his lap. Achilles' eyes never leave the page, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

"I brought you some tea," Connor sets the tray down on the table nearby. "I thought you might enjoy some on this cold day."

Achilles pauses for a brief moment to mumble his thanks. His head remains bent over the pages.  
Connor pulls up a chair and clears his throat. The assassin then waits expectantly.

"Yes, yes thank you. I appreciate the tea, and I will drink it when I have a chance."

Connor clears his throat again. "Achilles, I insist."

The older man sighs and bends a page corner before closing the book. Achilles looks up, only to pause.

The two cups that rest upon the tray are white with a delicate, blue lace pattern. The tiniest rose buds are interlaced regularly within the empty spaces of the pattern. Connor had found them earlier, in the very back of the cabinet and hidden from sight. Despite its secretive location, the tea cups looked new, as if they had been cared for often.  
Connor continues without acknowledging Achilles' brief lapse and reaches over to hand him the cup on the right. Then, sitting back in his own chair, Connor takes the other cup and sips.

The room was silent, but for the occasional wind that rattled the windows. They say nothing, but each sip and sigh communicated more than they could ever find the courage to admit.

Achilles set his cup down in his lap over the long forgotten book.  
"This was her favorite set. It was the first one I could ever afford to get her." 

Connor nods, "Tell me more."


End file.
